


The Pele Heist

by background_vulcan, emcapi, greatbirdofthegalaxy, JadeAbarai, SaritAadam, TransMartain (EternalLibrary), yel_halansu



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Heist, Minor Injuries, Mistaken Identity, RP, Siblings, Star Trek Fighting, USS Tribble Threat, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/background_vulcan/pseuds/background_vulcan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/emcapi/pseuds/emcapi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatbirdofthegalaxy/pseuds/greatbirdofthegalaxy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeAbarai/pseuds/JadeAbarai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritAadam/pseuds/SaritAadam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalLibrary/pseuds/TransMartain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yel_halansu/pseuds/yel_halansu
Summary: Written as part of a collaborative discord RP.The crew of the notorious smuggling ship Pele attempt to steal from the USS Bartholomew. They have a secret weapon though...
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: USS Tribble Threat





	1. Broken Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> The heist event (chapter 3) was written collaboratively, as was the bar scene in chapter 2. All writers will be credited as an author or in the chapter notes.   
> Compiled and lightly edited by TransMartian.

When Neila returns from DSK7 it’s with the hypos she was picking up, but also with a sly grin that says she has news. Porphyry clocks it right away and grabs her arm as she moves to follow Sama to the medbay.

“News from Augustus?” they ask.

“Saw something interesting,” she says, with a glance at Coda. “I’ll take us out of here, then let you know.”

Coda doesn’t like that glance – it’s the kind that is often followed by plans to have them EVA without a suit or impersonate a Starfleet admiral…

But Porphyry just nods and calls the crew to help secure their new cargo.

They’re several lightyears from the station before Neila puts the _Pele_ on autopilot and joins the crew in the mess. Astat, Coda and Turi are playing cards while Porphyry and Sama argue companiably over seasoning eggs. Neila kisses Sama above a ridge of spines and says without preamble, “Coda’s got a double.”

There’s a pause while they all look at Coda.

“I don’t,” e says. “My double was destroyed by the federation.”

“So the scientists said,” Porphyry says softly.

“Your double is a _pawn_ for the federation,” Neila argues. “I saw the badge. Computer,” she turns to a screen on the wall, “pull up any information on the _USS Bartholomew_. Cross reference with mentions of synths.”

“If my double was – alive,” Coda says, even as the computer beeps acknowledgement, “there’s no way Maddox and Soong wouldn’t have them. They were _so thrilled_ with Cas and Pol – they didn’t want just one of me.”

“Records found,” the computer says, and displays a press release.

Below the header for the Federation News Network is the title _STARFLEET APPOINTS FIRST SYNTH TO STARSHIP FOLLOWING LIFTING OF BAN_ and below that is the picture. It’s a standard Starfleet personnel image, and the face is one familiar to the crew. Coda catches the uncomfortable shift in Astat’s position, the glance Sama shoots em.

It’s eir face, but captioned with the name: Lt. Click, Chief Science Officer, USS Bartholomew.

Porphyry moves around to stand behind Coda, placing a hand on eir shoulder. E barely notices, studying the image, the marks scoring eir doubles face. E rubs eir cheek without thinking.

Turi stands and gestures to move to the next record. Personnel record. Same picture, but apparently the double – Click – has been promoted since the press release.

The next few records are papers in press in the _Journal of Advanced Synthetic Research_ , and another press release about some subspace physics research in a nebula, with mention on _Lieutenant Commander Click, Synth, working closely with Subcommander T’Miran of the Romulan Free state._

“They’re got Romulans on board?” Astat says. “USS Flying Press Release, eh?”

Turi pulls up the ship’s manifest, “You’re not wrong – Orion Captain… Another Romulan is the head nurse… I’ll say one thing for Starfleet, absolutely _everything_ is on record.”

Coda shrugs Porphyry’s hand off and stands. “I’ve got to,” e says, and gestures at nothing.

“Stay for supper?” Porphyry asks, gentle which is the _worst_ because Coda is _fine_.

E just shakes eir head and leaves the mess to inventory the Dorus supplies again.

“You want to what.” The way Prophyry says it, it’s not really a question.

“It’s an entirely unique opportunity,” Coda says, “plus the Barth is on a five year mission, you _know_ they’re going to have the supplies Dorus needs. We never got the replicator parts, and they’ve got special fancy Starfleet meds and everything.”

“And Click,” says Porphyry.

Coda nods slowly. “They – Starfleet is clearly using them and…”

“You think you can save them.”

Coda leans their head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

“Dorus could use some _special fancy Starfleet meds_ ,” Porphyry says.

Coda looks at them sideways. They’re gazing back, eyes deep and thoughtful.

“Let’s talk to the rest of the crew.”

Once again Click’s image is projected, a three dimensional hologram hanging in the medbay.

“You’re going to need to grow your hair,” Turi says, walking around it.

“I wish I could see under their uniform,” Sama says, head tilted.

“I could strip if you like,” Coda says dryly.

“I mean,” zie says, pointing at the edge of a deep gouge in Click’s skin that disappears under their sleeve, “they’re clearly damaged where we can’t see.”

“It’s not like I’m going to be disrobing for anyone on the _Barth_ ,” Coda says.

“Mmm,” Sama hums, “still.”

“Perfectionist,” Neila teases.

“Is it necessary for everyone to be here?” Coda grumbles.

“You’re right,” Sama says, flicking hir hands towards the door. “Let’s do this.”

Coda approximates a sharp smile, “Let’s.”


	2. Coda on the Barth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexei written by background_vulcan  
> Moona written by yel-halansu  
> Verelan written by greatbirdofthegalaxy

The Bartholomew is docked with Starbase 19 as, unbeknownst to them, is the Pele. Coda keeps reaching up to push eir newly longer hair out of eir eyes, until Porphyry grabs eir hand.

“You’re unsettled,” they say.

Coda huffs a humourless laugh. “A bit, yeah.”

“I know Sama talked to you about your plan with Click…”

“I know,” says Coda, “I know. It can…wait. The job’s more important.”

The skin around Porphyry’s eyes wrinkles. “I was going to say, do what you need to do.”

Coda doesn’t say that e doesn’t _know_ what e needs to do. What e wants to do. Eir sibling, the other part of em, has been taken in by the Federation and e knows they need the supplies for the colony but… Surely e can also save eir twin.

Porphyry kisses Coda’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

Coda closes eir eyes and grips Porphyry’s hand, then lets go, and turns, and leaves.

E’s transported into a Jeffries tube just off the cargo bay, the signal (hopefully) disguised in the transport of supplies from the station. Starships of a certain class are all more or less laid out the same, so e’s memorised the schematic for this one, and e knows which way engineering is.

But e doesn’t begin to crawl off in that direction. Instead e lays eir head down and sighs, deeply.

The first time Coda sees Click is in the corridor. E made it to engineering (only having to scramble madly to hide once when a curly haired ensign appears around a corner), and is now trying to find somewhere to lie low. Clearly the Jeffries tubes are out, if they’re going to be crawling with ensigns.

Luckily e sees Click from the back, and is able to duck into a storage compartment. E’ll have to talk to Click at _some point_ , probably. Maybe. E groans quietly in the dark of the storage closet.

The arboretum is large and covered in trees and plants and absolutely _full_ of hiding places, which would be perfect if Coda hadn’t walked into it and immediately been beset upon by several synthetic butterflies. At second glance they’re not _identical_ to the ones that Dr Soong created but their _wings change colour_ for goodness sake. Coda beats a hasty retreat.

Security is thankfully fairly empty at this time of night, officers either out on patrol or sitting around nursing raktajinos. Coda is able to slip into the weapons’ locker by imitating the chief of security’s voice – which is _on file_ , because Starfleet.

“Computer,” e asks quietly, “how many weapons are currently checked out?”

The computer displays a list for em. A few are with security officers, and will be returned at the end of shift. The Chief seems to keep theirs in their quarters which Coda can respect, though it makes eir job a bit more difficult. Ah well. E disables all the phasers currently in the locker, and sets a bug in the inventory to mark the incoming phasers as inoperable, so they won’t be checked out in the next couple days.

In the dark of the locker, e asks the computer, “Where is Lieutenant Commander Click?”

“They are in the science lab,” the computer says.

Coda breathes another sigh. Same as last time they asked. An hour ago. They’re probably still alone too. Now would be the perfect time to go find them, with so much of the ship asleep…

E leaves the weapons’ locker and goes to find somewhere to hole up.

Coda doesn’t need to eat, but e’s gotten used to the _rhythm_ of it, and on eir second evening e finds emself feeling particularly homesick in a way that’s making em…hungry. It’s a stupid idea – if e gets caught now it will blow the whole job, and e can wait _one more day_. But the computer tells em that Click is in the lab again, and surely if e goes to the bar there will be fewer people than in the mess?

There aren’t. Coda steps in to see a number of officers scattered around and don’t they have _things_ to do but before e can turn to go the bartender calls out, “Ah Click, my friend! Have not seen you in while.”

And the bartender is a _synth_. There’s no other explanation for the…thing with their jaw. Coda raises an eyebrow, and desperately pulls up the ship’s manifest they downloaded. There, a synthetic bartender, Alexei Mikhailov, picture identical to the person currently shooting finger guns at em.

Coda supresses a sigh and heads over to the bar. This is happening then.

“Hello Alexei,” e says, and noticing the Ferengi sitting with him (Ensign Moona, Engineering, the manifest informs em), “Ensign.”

“Hello, Lieutenant Commander,” Moona says, standing from her seat to salute.

Coda pauses. Do people salute in Starfleet? Should e salute back?

“Ensign Moona, it is nice to meet you both,” she continues, saluting Alexei as well.

Thank goodness, Coda thinks, that Click has not already met this ensign. There won’t be any conversational pitfalls. Alexei, however, is a different story.

“Did you ever see if drunk code worked?” he asks, and Coda flounders, reaching to grab their necklace and remembering it’s hidden beneath their uniform.

_Drunk code??_ “I…have not,” they say.

Moona is introducing herself to Alexei and Coda takes a seat at the bar as she waves hesitentently, asking, “You are…Click and Alexei, is that right?” pointing to each in turn.

Coda is regretting getting emself into this mess.

“Yup,” e says, trying not to sound vaguely panicked. “Good to meet you too.”

And oh, _stars_ , Click is going to meet her for _real_ at some point and they’ll both be so confused…

“Alexei Mikhailov, son of, eh, no-one?” Alexei says and if Coda weren’t silently fending off a panic attack e’d laugh. As it is e tries not to stare too hard at Alexei, another synth _here_.

Alexei slides a drink to Coda. It’s fizzy and sweet and Coda wonders if this is Click’s _usual_ order. The idea makes em feel a little odd.

Alexei and Moona start a discussion of the crunchy sticks he’s eating – Pocky – and Coda listens and tries to quiet eir anxiety. It’ll be fine. E can sit here and say the bare minimum and maybe they’ll both forget about this experience and it won’t be awkward when they next see Click. Except no, Alexei is an android he probably has a solid state memory to match Coda’s…

Which is the _least_ of eir concern because at that moment a _Romulan_ walks over. E doesn’t even hear what she says because e’d _known_ there were Romulans on board but it’s one thing to see them listed on the manifest and another to be confronted with one.

But surely if she was zhat vash, she wouldn’t be sitting so comfortably at the bar in front of Alexei.

“My name is Verelan,” she’s saying when Coda tunes back in. “I’m here, theoretically… as a diplomatic liaison from the Romulan Free State.”

Her file flashes in Coda’s vision. Right. The scientist.

“Are you…new?” she asks Moona.

“Yeah,” Moona says, “you could say it’s…sort of the same for me. I’m here with a work exchange programme for Ferengi women.”

Coda sips eir drink, and tries to fade into the background.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Verelan says, “but – I was under the impression that Ferengi women had no status in society. Was that just a rumour?”

Coda supresses a snort. Scientists with their heads stuck in their experiments – no understanding of how the rest of the galaxy is operating. E wonders if Click is like that…

Moona huffs, and explains “We do like, legally. Women were granted the right to wear clothes and seek profit twenty-five years ago, but some people haven’t caught up yet. And by some people I mean some Ferengi guys.” She shoots an angry glance at the adjoining leisure emporium. “That’s why Starfleet has established this program, to help Ferengi women get work experience that can help us get hired back home, or even in Federation territories!”

She seems very excited about it, so enamoured by Starfleet and the Federation. Coda resists the urge to roll eir eyes. Alexei offers em some pocky, which e takes and crunches loudly. E likes Alexei. It’s good he’s Click’s friend.

Verelan, meanwhile, seems intrigued. “Ah, I’m glad to hear that. You know, for all its –” she says some Romulan word that the universal translator refuses to translate “ – I was always proud of the old Star Empire for refusing to open full diplomatic relations with the Ferengi on account of their treatment of women. Now that things are changing, I should talk to Admiral Setal...”

The women continue to chat animatedly, clearly on their way to becoming friends. Coda takes another pocky, and Alexei slides the plate towards Moona, clearly seeing her eyeing it. He turns to make a drink for another officer, and Moona darts out a hand and grabs a stick of pocky, winking at Verelan before biting into it. Her face freezes and Coda nearly laughs again as she makes animated expressions of disgust and puts the rest of the pocky in her pocket.

“You know,” Coda says, having kind of lost the plot of what Moona and Verelan were talking about, “between you, the subcommander, and us,” pointing between emself and Alexei, who has returned, “Starfleet certainly gets a lot of good press out of this ship.” E thinks, somewhat bitterly, of the press release where e’d first seen Click’s face.

Alexei waves his hands mockingly, “ _Diversity_.”

Coda chuckles. As Verelan and Moona return to their conversation, e remembers why e came here in the first place and asks the bartender, “Can I get food here? Aside from pocky.”

“Sure,” says Alexei, before Coda can worry that this is something Click should know, “I have replicator. Does not have full variety like cafeteria, but whatever. What you want?”

“Hasperat?” e asks, naming a meal Turi likes to make them, on the _Pele_. Porphyry always said it was too spicy for them, so she’d make a mild version, and proceed to needle them mercilessly. Coda would kiss Porphyry with lips still spicy from the meal and they’d push em away, mock offended…

“Da, coming right up,” Alexei says, interrupting Coda’s thoughts. He punches a code into the replicator, and sets the plate in front of em.

“Thank you,” e says, and takes a bite.

“What have you been up to, comrade?” Alexei asks.

Coda tries not to choke, concentrating on chewing carefully and swallowing. This is not a good direction for the conversation to go in.

“Oh,” e says, vaguely, “there is always lots to do. We took on new supplies for the labs at the Starbase,” not mentioning e’d hitched a ride with the transporter signature for those supplies, “and there’s always paperwork…What about you?”

Luckily, Alexei does not seem suspicious about this answer. “Bartender things,” he says. “I got date later and, oh, have you met Sputnik?”

Before Coda can ask who or what Sputnik is, Alexei called, “Sputnik!” And a….creature comes scurrying out of the emporium. It’s got four legs, jointed backwards and a…head? of some kind, blunt and featureless. It’s….adorable. Coda’s eyes widen.

They drop from their stool to the floor and say, “Hello there!”

The creature – Sputnik – wiggles happily, rolling onto its stomach, clearly looking for scratches. Coda obliges, scratching it at its joints.

“How long have you had them?” e asks, enamoured.

“Since last starbase visit, where I bought him very legally,” says Alexei, deadpan.

Coda decides to leave the legality of Sputnik aside. Last starbase…he can’t mean Starbase 19, no crew had gone to the station. Which means…

“Deep Space K7?” e asks. The station where Neila had seen Click.

“Da,” Alexei agrees, “hey, wouldn’t it be funny if it was Deep Space K-9?” He laughs at his own joke.

Coda smiles towards the floor, and reaches to grab eir hasperat so e can eat it while continuing to pet Sputnik. “I think that’s near Sirius,” they joke back.

Alexei chuckles, and between his easy going camaraderie and the soothing motion of petting Sputnik, Coda feels emself relaxing.

“Oh shit,” says Alexei, and when Coda glances up he’s looking at the clock. “I have to get ready for date!” He runs towards the door, leaving the bar completely untended. “Feel free to take any food or drink, have fun with Sputnik,” he calls over his shoulder.

Coda blinks. “Have a good date,” e says to the empty doorway.

E stays on the floor, finishing eir hasperat, still petting Sputnik. E feels…even more lonely, now that Alexei’s gone. At least Sputnik seems happy to stay around and receive pets. Coda reaches up to fiddle with eir necklace, but meets the fabric of eir uniform, and lets eir hand fall back down.

Coda receives a message from Porphyry the next afternoon. _One hour_ it says. The computer is ready to go down, the phasers are disabled, everything is ready except… Click.

Coda tugs eir replicated uniform, tight and scratchy. “Computer,” e asks, “where is Lieutenant Commander Click.”

“The Lieutenant Commander is in the dynamics lab,” says the computer.

“Alone?” Coda asks.

“Affirmative,” says the computer.

Coda sighs. “Computer, execute program Coda oh-one lock on the doors to the dynamics lab. Route all comms for the Lieutenant Commander to me.”

“Executed,” says the computer.

Coda sighs, and heads to the cargo bay.


	3. The Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the fighting and mentions of injuries. It also contains an instance of forced sedation by a medical professional (though not in a medical context).
> 
> Coda, Click and Porphyry were written by TransMartian  
> Jaale and Raja were written by [Chrysanthdreams](https://chrysanthdreams.tumblr.com/)  
> Astat and Sama were written by JadeAbarai  
> Lure and Neila were written by tuvokholdmyhandchallenge  
> Sa'Kell was written by images_words  
> Inn was written by background_vulcan  
> Alceste was written by [mary-louise4760](https://mary-louise4760.tumblr.com/)  
> Lodzhal was written by SaritAadam  
> Verelan was written by greatbirdofthegalaxy  
> Lyle was written by emcapi

In the bridge, Ensign Peacock receives a priority one distress signal from a vessel identifying itself as a Federation Freighter. She looks at the tactical readout. The Barth is the closest ship.

“Captain,” she says, and puts the signal through in the bridge.

Jalle frowns as it blares across the room. “Put them online, Ensign,” he says, ready to hear what’s happened.

When she gets through, the comm is audio only – “This is Captain Andesite aboard the freighter Hephaestus,” their voice is slightly garbled, glitching in and out. “We’ve suffered a micrometeor impact to our nacelle – caused a chain reaction. Many of our systems are offline. Requesting immediate assistance.”

“This is Captain Jaale Tamaz from the USS Bartholomew,” Jaale responds, “please stand by to be towed into our cargo bay.”

He jumps to his feet and signals Sa’Kell to follow him to meet the crew of the Hephaestus. She falls into step with him, and they make their way to the cargo bay.

The Hephaestus manoeuvres itself into the cargo bay, and action more akin to ‘limping’ than a controlled glide. It scrapes the side of the port on its way in a slumps to the deck. It’s a freighter of about 25 meters in length, pocked and scraped and bearing the name _HEPHAESTUS_ in shiny gold letters – which look rather newer than the rest of the ship, truth to tell – but no other markings. One of the nacelles has a great crater in it, which is sparking gently. A hatch creeks and slams down to the deck, coughing smoke into the cargo bay.

Alceste jumps at the sudden noise of the hangar doors opening, and steps back, tensing slightly as he watches. From next to him, behind a tower of crates, Inn peaks out, confused.

Coda feels a wave of relief at the sight of the Pele, damaged as it appears. E wills eir face to remain impassive, though, playing the part of eir twin.

For a moment, there’s no movement within the ship, and then the crew begins to limp out. A tall person of indeterminate species, dark skinned a blue haired, steps towards Jaale, extending a soot-covered hand. “Captain Andesite,” they say by way of introduction. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Jaale takes the captain’s hand, and shakes it with a smile. “Of course, captain. Anything we can do to help?” He glances over the ship and frowns slightly, not seeing a Federation insignia anywhere. And he’s never heard of the Hephaestus before…

The rest of the crew has filed into the bay – six others, a Jem’Hadar holding up a Cardassian who looks slightly dazed; a small Rigelian; a Bajoran; an Orion; and a human. The Cardassian shrugs off the help of the Jem’Hadar, lifting hir hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to it before stepping away, towards the wall. She sags against it, next to a Jeffries tube. The Jem’Hardar, Rigelian and human follow her, making sure she’s okay.

“We unfortunately do not have any experienced engineers aboard,” Andesite says to Jaale. “We’d appreciate help diagnosing and repairing the damage.”

“We can help you, Captain,” Jaale says, waving Coda over, “just let us know exactly what you need. May I come aboard with my officer to inspect the damage?”

Coda exchanges a glance with Andesite – Porphyry – who raises an eyebrow as though to ask if e’s really Coda. Coda nods ever so slightly.

“Of course,” Porphyry says to Jaale. “It’s…not in the nicest condition right now, but please, follow me.”

They lead Jaale and Coda onto the ship.

Alceste turns away as they disappear into the damaged ship, looking for another case. He rounds the corner and spots Inn, crouched on the ground. “Hello, Lieutenant,” he says with quiet surprise.

“Counselor,” Inn looks up, “hello.”

Alceste frowns, looking over his shoulder at the assembled crew people in various states of injury. “Are there any medical supplies here?”

Inside the ship, Coda waves a hand in front of eir face, clearing smoke away. E recognises the kind of smoke bomb they’ve used before to make the ship appear more damaged than it really is. Jaale follows, inspecting various loose panels. He spots something concealed behind a panel…something with a symbol emblazoned across it. He kicks the panel off the wall to reveal several crates with the Orion Syndicate insignia splayed across them crudely in blood-red paint. He _knows_ the crates must hold weapons.

Coda’s eyes widen as e sees Jaale’s recognition and looks at Porphyry as Jaale draws his phaser and sprints from the ship. “It’s a trap!” he yells. “They’re here to loot us! Arm yourselves!”

At least, Coda thinks, as e and Porphyry follow Jaale out into the cargo bay, the phasers should be useless.

At Jaale’s excalamation, the Cardassian jumps up, suddenly looking much less worn and injured, and dives into the Jeffries tube. The Jem’Hadar and Rigelian follow her, the latter giving the Starfleet officers a rude gesture. “Easier than stealing Targs from a drunk Klingon!” he shouts.

“Let’s go, Neila,” the Jem’Hadar says, urging hir wife along.

The last, straggling human dives into the tube, foot catching on the lip before he scrambles inside, disappearing with a yelp.

Slithering quietly behind the crates, Inn dives into the tube after them to follow. Coda curses internally as e sees this. “Computer,” e mutters, “engage force field on all cargo bay Jeffries’ accesses, authorization Coda oh-one.” A force field shimmers into existence, blocking off the tube’s access.

Meanwhile, Sa’Kell and Alceste have both drawn phasers as well, Alceste hanging back, watching.

Porphyry raises their hands in a placatory gesture, moving towards Jaale. “Okay,” they say, “okay, we can talk about this…”

Jaale tries to phaser them, ignoring their words. Nothing happens. The phaser is useless.

“They’ve scrambled our tech!” Jaale calls, hooking it back to his belt. “We need to fight the old fashioned way!”

Turi squares up, ready to go. She eyes the captain. He doesn’t look like much…

Inside the Jeffries tubes, Neila leads the group down a pathway, surprisingly adept at navigating the branching passages. “Keep up, squad!” she calls, glancing back and letting out a whoop of exhilaration.

Sama follows surprisingly quickly. It helps hir wife’s backside is leading the way. Behind hir, Astat is cackling delightedly. Lure brings up the rear. Glancing over his shoulder, he notices Inn following behind, crawling easily on his claws.

“Guys,” Lure calls. “Hey guys, there’s a fucking dragon behind us!”

“The fuck?” Astat exclaims, picking up speed.

Sama mutters under hir breath, “Neila, where are we going?”

She points to a T-intersection, and starts climbing a ladder. “We’re headed to engineering,” she glances back again, reptilian eyes narrowing. “And Lure, you’re a dick!”

Lure scoffs, and turns back to spot Inn gaining on him slightly. He looks around as he crawls, and tears a panel off the wall, throwing it back at the doctor before continuing.

Inn tires to duck out of the way, the panel cuffing his shoulder. He follows regardless, falling back slightly. He hopes someone is in engineering right now.

In engineering, Moona is tinkering at a console, letting out _hum_ s and _huh_ s of curiosity every once in a while. Lodzhal is consulting with another engineer on issues he’s having with an IR spectroscope.

Verelan arrives, with Lyle, continuing a conversation that had started in the cafeteria, and continued through the walk to Lyle’s shift.

“Singularity cores are more powerful,” she muses to herself, looking at the warp core, “but damned if these aren’t more _aesthetic_.”

“They’re pretty cool in theory. Great power output. I would be terrified having to actually _work_ with one, though,” Lyle comments with a shudder.

“Oh, they’re safer than you might think. Once you stabalize the event horizon with the right frequency of tachyon harmonics, it sort of just sits in its own little bubble and does its thing. We only lost three uhlans to ultragravic spaghettification in my whole five years of compulsory service,” she says, utterly deadpan.

“Oh that’s _very_ reassuring,” Lyle replies sarcastically. “I know theoretically it’s not like a singularity core breach would be more dangerous than an antimatter core breach – you’re toast either way – but having a miniature black hole on my ship would just creep me out on principle, you know?”

Verelan shudders. “Honestly? I’m more creeped out by a _matter-antimatter reaction_ happening two feet from my head.”

“Ehh, warp core explosion, warp core implosion, po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe, I guess,” Lyle says, wiggling a hand in a so-so motion.

Verelan stares. “What’s a _potato_?”

In the Jeffries tubes, Lure catches up to the others, pulling slightly ahead and, with another yelp, trips on the corner and falls, taking Sama down with him. The others pass them by, rounding the final corner to engineering. Seeing his chance, Inn lunges forward and grabs Lure’s leg by the ankle. Sama’s never wanted to beat up Lure more than zie does now. Zie pushes him off, and books it after hir crew.

Lure attempts to kick Inn, clipping him in the chin. Inn ignores this feeble escape attempt, and performs a Vulcan neck pinch. Throwing Lure over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he heads for the brig.

He falls out of the Jeffries tube to the brig, Lure falling after him. After handing the unconscious human off to the security officer on duty, Inn makes for the door, eager to help out in Engineering. The door won’t open. Inn sighs audibly, and makes a running leap back into the Jeffries tubes.

Back in the cargo bay, Alceste attempts to sneak up behind Porphyry, and pulls them into a carotid restraint. “I can render you unconscious very quickly,” he warns in a low tone.

Porphyry gasps. “I would prefer you didn’t,” they say, a bit strangled.

Coda, dithering over whether e should help eir crew or stay out of it to preserve eir identity, has eir decision made for em. “Porphyry,” e says, before e can stop emself. E grapples Alceste, wrenching him off Porphyry. Alceste, caught off guard, falls backwards, and Porphyry wriggles out of his grip.

“Blew your cover a bit,” they gasp to Coda.

“Shut up,” Coda says, as a wired looking Orion steps towards Sa’Kell.

His pupils are small and he appears to be trembling, like he’s running on too much Caffeine. He must be one of the Syndicate liaisons, Coda thinks. He grins with malice, and takes a dagger from his boot, rushing Sa’Kell with a scream.

The scream is unwise – not that he’d have been likely able to sneak up on the first officer with her Vulcanoid hearing. She whirls to face him, twisting his arm behind his back, and he screams again, this time in pain. He wrenched out of her vice-like grip, trying to throttle her. She shoves him off, an action that looks almost effortless, nearly throwing him to the floor.

In engineering, Lyle hears a faint banging noise – did someone drop a wrench? They lean forward over the top of the console they’re working at and look around, trying to find the source. There’s another – significantly closer – banging sound and something that might be a yell. Lyle tenses, urgently tapping Verelan’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

She had. Verelan grimaces and reaches to her hip for a phaser – except civilians don’t carry weapons. Lodzhal, hearing the noise as well, wanders around, looking for the source.

Suddenly, a red alert blares: “All crew to stat –” and is abruptly cut off as engineering is plunged into darkness. The only thing illuminating the room is the blue glow of the warp core and the various monitors powered by emergency backup. The thudding begins to get closer until the panel to the Jefferies tube slams open to reveal the Neila, Sama and Astat.

Meanwhile, the various alerts begin to flood the monitors. Comms are being jammed and there’s a power surge building up in the conduits causing the magnetic seals to lock.

“Mother _fuck_!” Lyle yells.

Verelan swears in an incoherent Mnaehan dialect. “Of all the days to visit engineering!”

Sama stands to hir full height. “Stay where you are,” zie orders, pulling out a disruptor.

Astat snickers and brandishes a knife.

Verelan shudders at the sight of Sama. She didn’t fight in the Dominion War, but she sure saw the newscasts. The period where it looked like Romulus had signed a treaty with the Dominion had been terrifying, in that quiet, cold sort of way.

Neila, meanwhile, rushes to the warp core, pulling up her shirt to reveal a row of tools strapped to her torso. She gets to work.

“Hey – HEY! The fuck are you doing!?” Verelan shouts.

Astat lunges forward threateningly. “Don’t move,” he suggests.

Neila spits over her shoulder, “Shut up!”

Damn it, Verelan thinks. No phaser, no tricorder. Nothing. She’s in yoga pants and a fluffy sweater. She briefly considers flinging herself bodily at the Rigelian.

Which seems like a terrible idea. She just…stands there. Helpless. Confused. “Who are you!?”

Lodzhal plants himself between Astat and Verelan. Not threateningly, just placing his body there, ready to take a stab.

“Dilithium,” Sama snaps. “Now.”

Lyle’s jaw drops in outrage. “Ohhhhh NO,” they snarl, voice rising to a near-feral roar. “YOU. DO. NOT. FUCK. WITH. MY. SHIP!” In the darkness, standing on top of the console, Lyle cuts a significantly more intimidating figure than usual.

Verelan hopes to the Elements Lyle’s half-pointy ears are as sharp as hers. She whispers, so quietly that the non-Vulcanoids will _hopefully_ not overhear, “ _Can you tell what she’s trying to do_?”

“Saying your prayers, Vulcan?” Astat says dryly.

Verelan is stung – but she’s learning from the Vulcans. She turns to him with a deadpan expression. “Vulcans do not pray.”

Neila, still working at pulling materials out from the warp core, points a phaser at Lyle. “Get down,” she says.

“Wait!” Cries Verelan in a panic. “Stop – not like that, you’ll destroy the ship!”

Lodzahl looks around at the rapidly deteriorating situation. “You wish for our Dilithium, is that all? You realise it’s not accessible that easily?”

Neila shakes her head. “You think this is the first time I’ve done this?” She tears off a panel with her tool, and flinches back as a shower of sparks sprays over her.

In the cargo bay, Jaale and Turi are exchanging blows in a corner, Sa’Kell and Raja grappling, when a panel falls from the ceiling and down drops…Click. Coda looks at eir twin, eyes widening, a look of mild panic on eir face. Click stares back, face impassive, but picking nervously at their bracelet.

“Coda,” they whisper. It’s probably hard to hear over the fighting, but Coda’s hearing picks it up.

“Hey sib,” e says.

“What is _happening_ ,” Click asks no-one in particular.

Oblivious to the sibling reunion, Porphyry rushes Alceste, throwing a punch. Alceste is too quick, though, and drops, sweeping their legs. Porphyry falls over.

Click and Coda continue to stare at each other, neither of them moving. Coda wonders how they got out of their lab, and into the ceiling. Click is mostly disconcerted by the identical person standing three metres away from them.

Raja is not to be put off by the stronger First Officer, appearing driven by a crazed desire to maim. He jumps onto Sa’kell’s back, trying to slit her throat.

“You just don’t quit, huh?” she says, throwing him over her shoulder with a mighty force. He slams hard into the ground.

Inn peers down from the Jeffries tube into Engineering, reptilian eyes able to see in the darkness.

“Please,” Verelan is saying, “you’ll destroy yourselves along with us! We have a different interface than you…might have seen on…other Starfleet vessels.” She’s trying to come up with bullshit as fast as possible. “Please, I won’t try to stop you, just don’t – there are _children_ on board.”

Neial rolls her eyes and laughs. She wasn’t hatched yesterday. She lowers her phaser, ignoring Lyle, so she can work with both hands.

“You’re about TO BLOW YOUR OWN STUPID SELVES UP!” Verelan screams.

Lodzhal, catching on to Verelan’s plan, says with proper Vulcan neutrality, “We can take you to the other panels, but you need to stop what you are doing or you will blow up the ship and yourself in the process.”

“Stop yelling!” Sama snaps at Verelan. “What kind of a Vulcan are you!?”

“I’M NOT A FUCKING VULCAN YOU DRUG-ADDICTED DRONE!” Verelan yells back.

Neila whirls, tools in her hands suddenly menacing. “How DARE you!?”

“How dare I _what_?” Verelan taunts, trying to distract her.

Alright, Lodzhal thinks, they are all going to die. Not how he’d thought he would go. “Subcommander,” he hisses, “would you _please_ be quiet.”

“About that,” Verelan hisses back at Lodzhal. “Long story. Not a Subcommander anymore.”

“I’m fine, my dear,” Sama says softly to Neila.

Neial shakes her head, trying to cool off. “I need to – can you handle these?” she squints at Verelan, pride warring with the knowledge that this Dilithium could save countless lives on Dorus.

Lodzhal takes a deep breath. “Just, stay calm for now.”

Up in the Jeffries tube, Inn pulls a neural paralyzer out of his medkit. If he could just land a hit…

Sama nods to Neila and points her disruptor at everyone. “Back up,” zie says, “please.”

Neila turns back to the panel. “We don’t want your help,” she says is Verelan’s direction. “Never have. We want your fuel, you have more than enough, ­ _and_ you have an unlimited supply. Now shut up, _bitch_ , and let me work.” She shoves another tool into her mouth.

“You could have asked like civilized folk. I understand that Starfleet usually responds a bit better to polite niceties,” Verelan is not shutting up.

Astat nearly laughs aloud. Their precious _Starfleet_ is doing shit-all to help Dorus, or countless other communities like it.

“We do not have an unlimited supply,” Lodzhal states, frowning. “If you take our fuel, you will kill the four hundred people aboard.”

Astat whirls on him, pointing his knife. Like the Federation will leave a _Starfleet_ ship to flounder like they’ve left _everyone else_ in the galaxy. “You’ll be _fine_.”

Lyle leaps off the console, towards the charged circuits connecting the magnetic seals while everyone is distracted shouting. Technically, you’re supposed to flip the overload breakers before you fuck with the plasma circuits but oh well. They pull…strain…and in some combination of Vulcanoid strength and sheer rage, yanks one of the flexible conduits off the wall, spewing charged plasma in Tesla-coil like bolts of energy. They look like a tiny, wrathful electrical god.

Holding the sparking end menacingly, they advance towards the intruders.

Verelan stares.

Inn, using Lyle’s light show as a distraction, drops down and tries to neutralise Sama as she advances on Lyle.

Time seems to crystallize into a single point for Verelan. This. This must be her fate. This must be the story the the Elements have written for her. She no longer represents the Free State. She answers to no one but herself, and her actions reflect on no greater purpose. She is - for the first time - both insignificant and free. And a ship full of innocent people - weird ones, to be sure, but innocent - scientists, explorers, artists - are all at risk.

While Inn and Lyle are squaring off against Sama, Verelan takes advantage of the distraction to throw herself with all her strength at Neila, who is tearing at a panel in frustration. She’s taken out by a diving Romulan. She turns, shrieking, and beats at Verelan with her spanner wrench.

Astat throws himself at the only unoccupied person – Lodzhal. He dodges without difficulty, hitting Astat in the arm, causing him to lose his hold on the weapon. It spins away, swiping Verelan with it’s razor sharp edge.

The yell she lets out, a feral, pre-Surakian sort of sound, is half pain and half fury.

Astat whimpers and bites at Lodzhal, who holds in a moan of pain. He tries to nerve pinch him, but the Rigelian is moving around, making it impossible to get a good hold. In the end, he kicks him in the knee. Astat yelps.

In the cargo bay, Porphyry has stumbled to their feet, glancing over at Click and Coda, making sure they’re okay. They can barely tell the two apart, something in the way Coda is standing, the expression on eir face… It was one thing knowing that Coda had an identical twin out there – not just out there, on a specific Starfleet vessel that they were _going_ to – but it’s another to see the two of them standing facing each other, mirror images.

Coda doesn’t know what to say, what to _do_. E’s oblivious to the fighting around em, pale eyes looking only at Click. “I’m sorry,” e says, “that I locked you in your lab.”

It’s an absolutely _inane_ thing to say, but e doesn’t know what else e can offer.

Click looks at em. “Why are you here?” they ask.

Alceste rises as well, aiming a snap kick at Porphyry. They take it to the chest, crashing backwards into some crates which fall around them. Their shirt is torn, and they’re gasping again from the impact.

Alceste rushes over, and Porphyry is too stunned to move out of the way of another attack. But Alceste just pitches his voice loud to be heard over the noise and says, “You’re hurt. You can get medical attention in the brig.”

Porphyry gathers their breath and smiles weakly up at him. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Do you know what twenty thousand volts of unrefined warp plasma does to Jem’Hadar flesh?” Lyle asks with rather unsettling cheerfulness. “I don’t, but I think it would be interesting to find out.” They advance on Sama, cutting off hir escape routes as they notice Inn behind hir, highlighted in intermittent electrical flashes. Sama growls and lunges.

Neila turns to Verelan, going to smack her with the wrench before pulling back at the last moment. “Get the _fuck_ away from me!” She pushes Verelan back with both hands, into the wall. Verelan uses the wall as leverage, aiming a sharp kick at Neila.

She takes the kick with a shout, and turns back, pushing Verelan into the wall again and leaning her weight against her. “You’re persistent!” She grabs Verelan’s hair, pulling her head back. “Stop that.”

Lodzhal has grabbed Astat by the hand, ignoring the pain. With a few precise moves, he twists behind the Rigelian, twisting his arm and pushing him down, hard. Astat cries out. Lodzhal holds him down.

“Shut up,” he says. “Stop screaming and tell me why you are here. What do you want to do with the dilithium?”

Inn races towards Sama, holding the hypospray like a knife. If he could just get a clean hit, zie’d be out in only a few minutes, no lethal force required. Lyle dodges Sama’s lunge, yanking the conduit end with them as they duck behind hir, careful not to touch the floor with anything but their rubber soled boots – and rather than jamming the conduit end into hir back, which they are very tempted to do, they plug it into the socket behind hir.

With a loud _zzzap_ of power, the lights come back on, some flickering and sparking from the unexpected power surge, but definitely on, as Inn jumps onto Sama’s back, jamming the hypospray into hir neck. Sama stumbles, and flips Inn off hir back. “Neila…”

Inn gets thrown into the wall, wind knocked out of him. He checks the hypospray. Dose administered.

Stars float in Verelan’s eyes as pure, blinding rage begins to rise up in here. “You haven’t seen the half of it, you bitch,” she spits, and lunges to bite Neila on her nearest exposed part – the lizard-y ridge on the side of her neck. Neila pushes away from her, looking to her wife. She jerks her head at the now-open door and abandons her tools as she runs from the room.

Astat uses the distraction to wriggle out of Lodzhal’s grip and dashes out the now working door, Sama stumbling on his heels. Lodzhal loses his balance when Astat gets out of his hold, but he’s quick on his feet and runs after the intruders.

Verelan scrambles to her feet, then stumbles. She holds a hand to her injured side. It hurts like a motherfucker, and when she pulls her hand away it’s wet and green.

“DON’T FUCK WITH MY SHIP,” Lyle yells after them, words immediately followed by a spare wrench in alignment with their new policy of _saboteurs get wrenches thrown at their heads_.

Inn stands up, and gasps in pain once he tries to move his tail. “They sprained my tail!” he says, with a Vulcan curse.

Verelan’s head is spinning from getting smacked against the bulkhead. Her favourite sweater is ruined. She drags herself up to her feet, and charges as best she can out the door. Inn growls, ignoring the pain, and runs after her.

“Verelan, you need to _sit the fuck down_ ,” Lyle yells, noticing her injury, but she’s already out the door. They run after her.

“I’ll rest when the ship is safe, or I’ll sleep when I’m dead!” she shouts over her shoulder.

The Pele crew leads them through the corridors, bursting into the cargo bay, Astat shouting, “ _Fucking run!!_ ”

“Bail,” Neila adds, passing her crewmates and pushing into the ship.

Sama staggers after, starting to feel the effects of Inn’s hypospray.

Jaale pulls away from Turi, flying past Alceste to grab Porphyry by the remains of their shirt. They use the last of their strength to wrench out of his grasp, staggering to their feet and shouting, “Turi, Coda, let’s go!”

The crew sprints onto their ship – all but Coda. As they pile through the hatch, Porphyry pauses on the threshold.

“Coda,” they repeat, quieter, half question. Coda shakes eir head. Porphyry nods, and closes the hatch. The _Pele_ takes off with its secondary engines – entirely undamaged – and files off.

Jaale gets to his feet, panting, somehow his shirt also torn. He turns to the rest of his crew.

“Are you alright? Is anyone hurt?” he notices the unconscious form of Raja on the ground, left behind.

Lodzhal breathes heavily. “Subcommander Verelan got hurt in engineering,” he informs the Captain.

She looks a mess – a bruise is blooming on her neck and the civilian sweater she’s wearing has an unsettling green stain spreading across one side. Her eyes are slightly unfocused. But she’s on her feet, face contorted with rage.

“That Jem’Hadar,” Inn pants, “isn’t going to wake up for a while. And you,” he grabs Verelan, “you need to get to medbay.”

Verelan looks down at herself, like she’s waking up from a fever dream. “Oh…oh, I suppose I do.”

“Click,” Jaale says, surveying the rest of the crew and trying to keep his shirt from falling off his shoulders, “escort Verelan to medbay immediately.”

“I’m okay!” she insists loudly.

“ _Now_ , that’s an order!” Jaale barks at her.

Click and Coda both move towards Verelan. They look at each other.

“Captain,” says one, “I’m afraid it may be difficult to tell which of us is the real Click.”

Verelan blinks. She’s seeing double. “…on second thought, I think I _do_ need to go to medbay,” she murmurs.

“You don’t say,” Lyle agrees sarcastically.

Alceste studies both Coda and Click carefully, while Lodzhal simply looks on in confusion. He does not understand what is happening again, and frankly is not in a state of mind to know. He needs to calm his breathing and meditate. He wants a chocolate root beer.

Jaale sighs, “Sa’kell, take both of the androids to the brig until we can determine which is the real Click. And take this one too,” he kicks the unconscious Orion with his foot.

“That seems reasonable,” says one of the androids.

Verelan takes a breath and gets to her feet with some effort. “Captain, there’s something I need to tell you…”

The Captain engages the emergency medical transport, and Verelan dematerialises with an indignant yelp.

Jaale and Sa’kell escort the androids to the brig, the unconscious smuggler slung over Sa’kell’s shoulders.


End file.
